


Cinnamon Smoke

by miikhailo



Category: Shameless (US), Shameless - Fandom
Genre: Gallavich, Gallavich Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikhailo/pseuds/miikhailo
Summary: When Mickey pulls up in a 4x4 Jeep and asks him if this is goodbye, Ian makes a decision. He'll go with Mickey, who is now on the run from the cops as he's just escaped jail.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so I wrote this short fic a few days ago when the new Noel and Cam pic came out because I was inspired. This is my first time using the website and I'm looking forward to hopefully writing more!

They'd been driving for awhile now. Ian had glanced over at Mickey quite a few times to no avail. Even now as Ian was looking at him, Mickey's gaze was locked on the road as his "Fuck u-up" tattoos slid over the steering wheel. Ah, fuck it, Ian thought. Mickey's initial light humor had disappeared about a minute after Ian threw his backpack into the trunk and hopped into the front seat. "So, where we going?," Ian casually asks as he steals yet another glance, this time staring at Mickey's dark sideburns encircled by the setting sun outside. "Thinkin' about hitting up this twink club 'bout 4 miles down the road," Mickey says stoically keeping his eyes forward. "You serious?," Ian looks over and grins. Mickey quickly looks over and back at the road. "Nah man, ain't no way you're fitting in that gold thong right now." Ian chuckles, "That's the first joke you've made since I got in the car." "Oh yeah? Now why's that?," Mickey retorts. Ian looks down. It's been almost a year since his last visit to prison, which he's tried to forget about. The pain in Mickey's eyes, masked by a soft smirk, was almost too much for him. Ian knew how to keep his distance, and with Mickey being in prison, it was easy to drown his memories in work and family troubles. But still, over the past year that one visit surfaced in his mind over and over until the infected, swelling reminder of their fucked-up ending burned into Ian's eyes. Ian hated himself for so many reasons, some being ones he couldn't control. Caleb being one reason. Ian wished he could go back to that dinner and sucker-punch himself for the things he said. 'We take care of each other.' And god, Mickey did. Mickey did, he cared so much. Too much, and that was the problem. Still getting used to the daily struggles of his mind fighting against him, Ian ripped away all the love surrounding him and pushed it as far as he could. He was scared. Scared to fall and take the ones he cared about with him. Scared of himself. Scared that people would see him changing and leave.

Scared. 

"Getting dark, I gotta refill this shitty tank before we go any farther. There's a gas station coming up in a half hour," Mickey says as he sucks Ian back into the present. "Hope I didn't interrupt any hot date you were on earlier," Mickey continues. Ian starts, "Why the fuck would you say that?" Mickey raises an eyebrow, "Sore subject?" "No I just...don't know why that's important," stuttering, Ian rubs his hands down his thighs in irritation. Mickey sighs. "Well considering I haven't seen you in about a year I was hoping you would catch me up on the latest drama of the Gallagher shit show." "I had a boyfriend and I'm seeing someone right now!," Ian suddenly blurts out. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you Ian? Mickey takes his eyes off the wheel and stares at him for the first time. "You really wanna get the ball rolling with that? Fuckin' christ Ian." "I'm sorry," Ian gazes out the window next to him at the auburn clouds lit up from the sunset. Suddenly Mickey slams on the breaks and Ian jerks forward, his knees slamming into the dashboard as his seat belt cuts into his fleece jacket. "Fuck!," Mickey screams at the top of his lungs, his voice jarring the steady silence that had been present. "Jesus Christ Mickey what the HELL?!" Ian unbuckles his seatbelt and lurches out of the car. "I'm not even fucking mad! It's not that! I got a fucking decade sentencing, of fucking course you'd move on! You think I have my head in my ass?!," Mickey screams as he unsteadily steps out of the car. Ian swallows hard. "You're not dumb Mick, you're not." Mickey looks at him through the fogged window of the jeep. "I was fuckin' close. I almost had--," Mickey's voice cracks as he bites his lower lip. Lips as familiar to Ian as Fiona's warm smile in the morning when he was young, waking him up for school. "Almost had a life man. Not selling coke just to get enough money so my dad wouldn't pistol whip Mandy when I got home from school. Thought I could do something good. For all of us, man. For you."

Mickey turns away and squints at the sky, it's almost pitch-black by now. Ian doesn't know what to say. His thoughts are muddled and he's afraid to say something stupid. So they just stand there, Ian looking at a shallow scrape on Mickey's pale cheek until Mickey breaks the silence. "Gas station's gonna close soon. Get in," he says without looking at Ian. Ian numbly fidgets with the car door as he slams it, sinking into his seat. The drive to the gas station is complete silence, with Mickey occasionally muttering 'Fuck' when he nearly hits the car in front of him with only one headlight sending a weak streak of light onto the road. Not to mention it's raining now, torrents of drops pouring down onto the roads and sending a fog up into the windshield. Headlights reflect up from the tar-colored, shiny highway, allowing Ian to see a marred reflection of his face below him. A tear runs down Ian's face as they pull into the vacant gas station, the store still lit up with the last customer leaving. Without saying a word, Mickey hops out and begins punching in numbers to fill the tank. Apparently something's not working because Mickey begins angrily stalking toward the gas station door. Ian gets out to go to the bathroom, he hasn't gone since the morning. Walking into the dimly lit stall, Ian glances back and stares at himself in the cracked mirror covered in smeared dirt and cobwebs. Suddenly he starts smiling, leaning over the toilet he feels like puking. His smiling turns into hysterical laughter as he lurches over the toilet feeling like the pop tart in his stomach is about to come up. Tears stream down his face as he sobs and laughs uncontrollably into the toilet bowl welcoming his tears. Ian slides down the stall and crumples into the toilet paper container. 

After slowly getting up and stumbling outside, he sees Mickey arguing with a gas station attendant. He overhears mumbled yelling with Mickey in the man's face saying "Oh yeah? Well are you a fuckin' science professor? Yeah I think the fuck not! It's not my fuckin' engine man it's your shitty gas!" The man stalks back inside and Mickey turns toward him. Ian can barely see him from here as there's only two street lamps illuminating the car with rain assaulting him from what seems like everywhere. Ian gets closer. Pointing his finger toward Mickey, he starts screaming. "Yeah! We could've FUCKING had a life Mick! But guess what?! The world's FUCKED! The police are fucked! Sammi's fucked! My mind's fucked! We're all FUCKING FUCKED! I wake up sometimes and I feel like fucking dying, but I get my ass up because I have fucking hope! I'm sorry you think you're the only one fucked over but guess what?! WE. ALL. ARE." Now Ian can see Mickey, standing there with rain streaming down his face. Or tears? Ian still can't make out his facial expression. Mickey stares at him for what seems like forever. Then he starts. "Wake the FUCK up Ian! We all have shit! Your shit's just shittier than some people's! You know where I've been for the past year?! FUCKING JAIL. I wake up everyday thinking I'm in my bed and smile because hey, maybe I can prove to you I'm not my dad! I'm not a fucking failure and I can help you with this shit! But I can't help you and it fucking kills me! Then I open my eyes to the shit-stained ceiling of fuckin' hell and IT. FUCKING. SUCKS." They're looking at each other now, sheets of rain plummeting down to earth and battering their contrasting features. Ian takes a minute to respond, his mind searching for the words that he's never been able to choke aloud because the world would hold him accountable.

Even on his worst days, he would be held to that promise. 

"I know! You don't think I know what it feels like? To wake up knowing that you're not there? You're not there to fucking at least try! That's all I fucking need, and I know you were there! I know you would've done everything! But I didn't know myself and I hated that I just had to watch myself fuck up everything I cared about! Because I fucking love you Mickey! I fucking love you Mick!," Ian shouts. "I fucking...I love you," Ian whispers to the rain separating them. Mickey stands there with his dripping clothes. Black, soppy hair sticking to his fair skin. He sinks to the ground, arms draped across his knees, and lowers his head. Mickey slowly stands back up, turning to lean into the jeep, his forearm boring into the foggy glass. Ian steps toward the car, taking what seems like the distance of a baseball field to reach him. Up close now, Ian sees droplets forming under his eyes, rain created by something out of weather's control. Ian reaches his hand up and cups Mickey's chin, turning his face upward so that the street's light reflects in Mickey's dark, shining eyes. "Tell me to stop," Ian whispers as he leans down, closing his eyes. But it's silent except for the rain as Ian collides with Mickey, wet lips moving together as one. Familiar, warm, home. Mickey's mouth finally opens and their tongues find each other, the barrier between them collapsing for good. Ian slides his hands over Mickey's chest and shoulders and arms and back. Mickey slips his hand behind Ian's neck and grips the back of his hair, making a noise of surprise when Ian pushes him against the jeep. No space between them. Their bodies move together, Ian pinning Mickey's hands to the car on both sides of his waist. He hadn't forgotten the way Mickey sounded enfolded in a kiss, or the way he liked to grip Ian's waist as though he was afraid of losing control. Mickey inches his hand under Ian's shirt, his fingers exploring the defined muscles of Ian's stomach. 

After what was probably a minute or two of kissing, Mickey slowly raises himself into the back seat, pulling Ian in by the waist. Ian eases himself beside Mickey onto the leather seat and shuts the door, the light from the cars hurtling by blinks out. Tired, so tired. Mickey stares into Ian's eyes in awe as Ian envelopes him, closing Mickey into a cocoon to protect him from the rain that refuses to stop. Laying curled up together, Mickey's back facing toward him, Ian interlocks his arms around Mickey's chest. Ian buries his head in Mickey's smoky hair, breathing in his familiar scent. He liked how Mickey smelled, always has. He smelled like smoke and cinnamon, mixed together in a perfect match. Ian lifts his head so that he can see the boy's face, worn down from years of pain, and presses his lips to the creases of his eye where a tear still rests. Maybe a rain drop. He rests his head back into the crook of Mickey's neck. Ian could feel Mickey's heart steadily beat against his hands, coinciding with the pitter patter of the slowing rain outside. As Ian slowly fades into his dreams, he hears a soft whisper encircle and settle into his ear.  
"I love you."


End file.
